


keep the lights off

by whiskybusiness



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Awkwardness, Canon Compliant, Dry Humping, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Like so much humping, M/M, Oral Sex, Secret Crush, Size Difference, Size Kink, Song Mingi is Whipped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25947628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskybusiness/pseuds/whiskybusiness
Summary: The styling for this comeback was fine until Hongjoong started wearingskirts.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Song Mingi
Comments: 86
Kudos: 519





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magicsoul (cherishiskisa)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherishiskisa/gifts).



> magicsoul birthed me so it's more than proper i pay them their dues!!! 
> 
> if you've read them, i'm sure you'll see many similarities between this fic and my others :D hope you enjoy!

The styling for this comeback was fine until Hongjoong started wearing _skirts_.

Okay, that’s not exactly true. But the skirts are murder on Mingi’s mind, most especially on his dick. The skirts and the high-waisted belt-wraps that go along with them, the ones that cinch tightly around Hongjoong’s middle, letting the skirt flare out from half of his body whenever he moves. And that’s not even accounting for the smooth blue fringe of his bangs, nearly brushing his eyes, and the jewellry. Studs in every ear-hole, plus — more often than not — chokers wrapping snugly around his throat. 

Jongho had asked about the first skirt, and Hongjoong had just shrugged. _They’re pretty_ , he’d said, doing a little shimmy that made Mingi’s eyes bulge out of his head, until he remembered he can’t stare at Hongjoong’s hips without it being weird. 

_Do you think it looks good?_ Hongjoong had asked him and Seonghwa, blinking, his eyes ringed in dark liner. 

Mingi is almost sure he said something normal. Almost. But Hongjoong’s eyes had lingered on him, crinkled slightly, as if Mingi had said something stupid and silly instead of just validated his fucking outfit. 

The problem is, Mingi is very _sensitive_ to Hongjoong’s styling. He’s very sensitive in general — he can get hard from a squeeze around his neck, a pat on his shoulder, Hongjoong hanging off his back in a vlive. Even Hongjoong tugging on his hand, whenever he’s being uncharacteristically touchy and affectionate. Whenever he laughs at something Mingi says, in that classic Hongjoong way: his adorable nose scrunched, cheeks soft and round, mouth open, the entire line of his upper teeth available for viewing. Also, confusingly, whenever Hongjoong speaks to him seriously. Not even scolding, just stopping by to discuss 99z tensions or critique his lyrics. 

Unfortunately he also gets hard when Hongjoong looks like a sexy little pixie who sucks dick like he was born to do it. 

Yes, the skirts are pretty. Yes, Mingi would like to commit homicide against whichever stylist suggested and/or approved them. Yes, he doesn’t understand how Hongjoong doesn’t see how they make Mingi want to grip around his tiny waist and feel the curves of his ass under the loose fabric. Makes him want to push forward, his chest against Hongjoong’s back, hold him still and rub against his juicy little ass until Mingi’s groaning and cumming onto the pleats of his skirt, and Hongjoong is panting beneath him. 

After the latest iteration of this mess, it’s a wonder Mingi makes it back to the dorms without truly embarrassing himself — aside from the semi he’d popped right before the performance, which he couldn’t help but brush during the frankly inappropriate move he has to do before the first chorus. It always looks like he’s touching himself, and this time he kind of _was_ , just a brief press against his cock before sliding his hand away. 

He really hopes his boner wasn’t visible on camera, but he’s been curse-blessed with a sizable penis, so he knows it probably was. At least slightly. 

Whatever. No one’s yelled at him for it, at least not yet.

Exhausted down to the bone, he does the speedy version of his skincare routine — wipe the makeup away, wash, moisturize, dry, and done. Then he slips into boxers and a loose T-shirt and slides into his bed. 

It’s been weird without Jongho around. Kind of quiet, kind of lonely, but it’s really for the best. Mingi can sleep without feeling guilty for ruining their gamer-times and also, importantly, he can do _this_.

 _This_ meaning opening his favorite explicit m/m manga, blessedly available sans VPN thanks to the benevolence of the government, and reaching a hand down under the covers, under his boxers, to squeeze his cock. 

He’s a simple man. He doesn’t need much more inspiration than the image of two attractive dudes fornicating, plus his healthy imagination, to achieve a fast and easy orgasm. 

One of the two guys is much smaller than the other. Coincidentally, of course. The author must know how hot it is to think about the difference in size, and it is _hot_. The taller guy bending his head, his huge hands gripping the smaller dude’s thighs, bent back near his head, a thick cock pushing inside his tiny ass. 

Mingi sighs, half-shiver, and squeezes his eyes shut. His cock is already well on the way to erect, pulsating in his hand as he strokes himself. 

When Jongho had been on the top bunk, he’d had to wait until he heard snores to start really touching himself. And he’d had to do it quietly, biting his lip, making sure never to move his hand fast enough to make noise. Slow, slow slow. 

He’s halfway certain Jongho heard him a few times, when he was too caught up to keep an ear on Jongho’s breathing, but that’s neither here nor there. They all masturbate. They don’t usually talk about it — well, he and Yunho do, sometimes. And Wooyoung, of course. The rest are too prissy to engage in that kind of talk, though Jongho and San and Yeosang will at least chuckle, ducking their heads. 

God, Mingi would never dare to even _think_ about masturbation in front of Hongjoong. He doesn’t know if Hongjoong jerks off — _mmph._ The thought, as usual, has him biting off a gasp, cock throbbing. 

He usually doesn’t even need the manga to get off. It’s more than enough to lie there and fuck his hand thinking about Hongjoong, Hongjoong, Hongjoong. He’s always thinking about Hongjoong. It would be funny if he just knew how to _stop_.

The manga isn’t even the dynamic that really gets his dick hard — the short dude is meek as hell, the wilting flower kind of bottom, and the big guy acts like a classic tsundere. But still, Mingi looks and reads and jacks himself off, already close just from the persistent image of Hongjoong with blue hair sticking to his forehead, a thick, transparent cloth wrapped around his throat. The soft milkiness of his forearms, the heat in his eyes during the Inception choreo when he and Mingi have to turn to each other, aggressive, as if they’re about to fight, or fuck, or both. 

Or both. Mingi groans, lightly out of habit, and feels sparks of warmth building from where his fist wraps around his cock. He’s really close. He’s — 

Someone knocks twice on his door. “Mingi-yah?” comes the voice behind the door, as quiet as the knocks. 

The person doesn’t need to say who they are. 

_Shit_ , he thinks, pulling his hand out of his boxers and wiping it desperately on his shirt — he’ll wash it later, when he’s not bubbling up with panic. “Um, yeah?” he calls back, heart thumping. 

Except Hongjoong seems to take that as an invitation to _enter_. He opens the door and steps into the room, closing it behind him, and Mingi shrieks. Silently. Fuck, he should’ve just pretended to be asleep, he thinks, before he shoves himself up into a sitting position and draws his knees in to his chest. 

The quick movement makes his phone clatter to the floor, and he winces. Then he freezes, because it stops in front of Hongjoong’s slipper-clad feet. Hongjoong bends down to pick it up. 

God, Mingi’s dick is so _hard_. It’s never been this hard when Hongjoong is in the same room, and oh God, Hongjoong is coming closer, holding his phone in one small hand. 

“Hey,” Hongjoong says, holding the phone out. He looks awkward and somewhat flustered, and Mingi doesn’t know why until he takes the phone and sees, stomach clenching, that the manga is still on the screen. 

The manga showing two men fucking. Fuck. 

“Ah, I — I don’t know, that’s. I wasn’t,” Mingi says quickly, closing the browser and throwing the phone down. “I don’t know what that was. Um, sorry?”

Hongjoong still has this strangely pinched look. “It’s fine,” he says finally. Then he perches on the bed. 

“So what’s — what’s up?” Mingi manages, his cock still hard as a fucking nail in his boxers. 

This is like so many of his fucked up fantasies — Hongjoong barging in on him with his cock out, transfixed, sucking him dry. Jerking him off with those ridiculous hands, his fucking incredible mouth hanging open. Letting Mingi fuck his pretty little thighs and jerk him off, hearing his breathy moans at the feeling of it. 

“Are you okay?” Hongjoong asks, frowning. “You look red.” 

Mingi licks his lips unconsciously. He can _see_ the moment that Hongjoong connects the manga with the flush in his cheeks, the way his knees are bent rigidly to hide his crotch. Hongjoong’s eyes widen and he blinks a few times, then looks at the floor, blushing. 

“I’m fine,” Mingi says desperately. “Um. Did you need something?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Hongjoong says, his hands twisting on his lap. “We can talk about it later, I didn’t mean to, like…”

God, this is awful. This is worse than the time Mingi’s mom walked in on him jerking off into the hotel room toilet on their mother-son trip to Jeju. At least _she_ had laughed about it afterwards, making a few very unnecessary comments about genetic transfers. Hongjoong just looks _pained_ , and he hadn’t even seen Mingi’s dick. 

However, Hongjoong hasn’t fled the room. He’s clearly trying to act normal, and Mingi appreciates that. He can act normal too. “It’s fine,” he says again. “What did you, uh, want to talk about?” 

Oh God, he thinks, immediately afterward. What if it’s about his erection? If Hongjoong is going to scold him for being hard on camera, this is about to get even fucking worse than it already is. 

But Hongjoong just sighs. “I just saw you looking nervous earlier, before we went on. And you’ve been a bit jumpy lately. Distracted. So I wanted to see if you were okay.” 

That’s sweet. It would be even sweeter if Hongjoong’s face weren’t the thing making him jump. “That’s really nice, hyung,” Mingi says, and then coughs. Clearly he hasn’t been as subtle as he’d thought. “I’m sorry if I’ve been acting weird.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Hongjoong glances around the room before his eyes latch back onto Mingi. “Is it Jongho leaving? Are you tired? Is your back bothering you—”

“Hyung!” Mingi sits up even higher, shifting so his dick can breathe. “I’m — it’s not that. My back is fine, I’m fine. Jongho and I are fine.” 

Still bright-eyed with concern, Hongjoong hums. He looks at Mingi consideringly, and even though he’s pint-sized, the force of his attention is enough to make Mingi want to hunch down and peer up at him timidly. 

“It must be nice having your own room,” Hongjoong says at last, and his tone is — different. Less urgent, more — what?

Mingi blinks at him. “Um. Yes?”

“Lots of privacy,” Hongjoong says, in that same odd tone, and then his eyes drop to between Mingi’s calves, where his dick lies, still stubbornly hard. 

His gaze lingers just for a second, but it feels like a long, long second. Mingi flushes, locking his knees together tightly. What the fuck does that mean? “I,” he says, faltering under Hongjoong’s weird stare. “I guess...so?”

“I feel like you’ve been looking at me a lot,” Hongjoong says suddenly.

Oh God. 

Oh _God,_ damage control. He’s been caught. Fuck, he’s such a shitstain. “I’m so sorry, hyung,” Mingi rushes out, feeling like human trash. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

The time until Hongjoong speaks feels infinite. 

“So you have,” Hongjoong says quietly, addressing his own feet. “Been looking.”

Oh fuck fuck fuck, Mingi thinks. Stupid fucking idiot. Why would he — it was a trap. It was a huge, deep, spike-filled trap, and now Mingi is speared through like a trout, ready to be eaten. “Um,” he says, mind empty. “I, uh—”

“Do you like that kind of thing?” Hongjoong asks.

Mingi follows his nod to the phone on the bed and his stomach _writhes_. What the actual fuck? What is _happening_ right now. “What do you mean?” he asks hoarsely. 

The scrunched glare Hongjoong throws him feels very normal. “Porn,” Hongjoong says, as if he doesn’t know how his voice and that word make Mingi feel fucking crazy. “Like that. Boys. Men. Together.”

Each word is like a gunshot. Mingi gulps, feeling the drumbeat of his heart. “Maybe,” he says helplessly. “I don’t do anything but look at it, and —” _jerk off to it,_ of course, but what he means is, he’s not fucking anyone. He’s not trying to fuck, or kiss, or hook-up with guys. Nothing that would cause problems. “It’s just private. I don’t…”

Hongjoong is looking at him so, so closely. “You haven’t talked about it with Yunho,” he says. “Or San, or Wooyoung, or anyone?”

“We don’t talk about that stuff,” Mingi says, even though he’s nearly 100% sure San would get off to it too. Their conversations have definitely danced around fruity a few times. “It’s not a big deal. I’m sorry, though. I won’t let it affect how I act anymore.” That doesn’t seem like enough, so he adds, “I’ll stop staring at you, I mean.”

A beat of silence. “Are you saying they’re related?”

Shit. Fuck. Fuck! Mingi flushes hard, his entire body going hot and cold. “No! I mean. You’re — I —”

“You like looking at me,” Hongjoong says, and when Mingi chances a look at his face, he’s smiling. “Is that what you mean?”

Mingi’s boxers still feel sticky with precome, even though his cock has finally started to soften from the ongoing fear. _This is literally not happening,_ he thinks, hysterical. What is he supposed to _do_? “I don’t know what to say,” he says, overcome. 

It’s taking every ounce of his courage to even look in Hongjoong’s direction as he speaks, but Hongjoong doesn’t seem to have the same issues. Yeah, he’s still awkward and kind of twitchy, but he looks from the floor to Mingi’s face and says, pink-cheeked, “I like that stuff, too.”

Um. What the fuck. 

“Yeah?” Mingi says, shocked dumb. 

“Have you ever…” Hongjoong bites his lip, fuck, and then he looks at Mingi’s trembling knees. Double fuck. “Have you ever done anything like that? With a guy?”

Triple fucking million fuck. Mingi swallows, hard, before answering. “No, I — have you?”

Hongjoong fidgets. “On Mixnine… I don’t think you guys were friends. Me and another contestant, sometimes we’d —” he makes a jerking motion with his hand, then drops his arm, blushing. “Just a few times.”

Whatever happens, that image is never, ever going to die. Mingi practically feels his eyes bugging out, but he clears his throat. They’re just — they’re chatting. About gay shit. Sharing secrets. This is a beautiful moment, and he should act chill. “Cool,” he says. “That’s so cool.”

“Were you jerking off?” Hongjoong asks, derailing that effort completely. His eyes trail down to Mingi’s hidden groin. “Do you want to — I could, like, do it for you. If you want to try it.”

There’s no way this is real, Mingi decides. 

No, there’s no way. No way that the thing — one of the things — he’s been nutting to for the past two _years_ could just suddenly, randomly, come to pass like this. So easily. All because he couldn’t stop ogling Hongjoong in public. 

It’s ridiculous, but his dick is already starting to fill up again, swelling eagerly between his thighs. “If you’re cool with it,” he hedges. Breathing has become oddly difficult. “Sure, yeah. I can do you, too.”

Cringe. But Hongjoong licks his lips and edges onto the bed fully, kneeling in front of Mingi’s bent legs, which Mingi nervously parts and lets fall around him. He’s wearing gray boxers, so there’s really no mistaking the bulge of his cock, thick and undeniable.

Mingi is sweating. 

“You don’t have to,” he says, aching at the press of Hongjoong’s eyes on his clothed dick. Hongjoong is just staring. He looks so tiny, even kneeling in front of Mingi, which puts them on a more even level. Hongjoong is in loungewear, just a simple white tee and black sweatpants. He looks so small and soft, so out of place looking at a _cock_ , and Mingi wants — he wants. He wants Hongjoong to touch him. He wants to do whatever Hongjoong wants, honestly. 

Hongjoong definitely understands sex. Mingi has always known that, and Hongjoong rolls his eyes leniently at their innuendos, but this is new. The hunger in Hongjoong’s expression, it’s new. 

“Can you take it out?” 

“Yeah,” Mingi says, swallowing heavily. God, he’s really hard now. His dick flops heavily against his stomach when he draws it out, pushing his boxers down so that his balls can breathe. 

Look, he’s big. He knows that, but still, Hongjoong’s tiny, shocked gasp sends a thrill of pride through him. _You like that_? he asks, pleased as punch. He’d never dare to say it, but he pumps himself a few times, watching Hongjoong’s eyes follow the rather long movement of his fist, head to base. 

So Hongjoong likes cock. Okay. _This is fine,_ he thinks, thumbing at the precome building at the head. Hongjoong likes cock. Big cocks, maybe, especially. He wonders how big the Mixnine dude had been, but pushes away the thought. It’s confusing and it’s far from important right now. 

Hongjoong edges forward on his knees, stopping at the crease of Mingi’s thighs, almost on top of his dick. “Can I touch it?”

 _Please_ , Mingi thinks, his stomach tensing. “Yeah, go ahead,” he says. 

Mingi has no idea what to do with his hands when he’s not touching his cock. He can’t reach forward and pet the top of Hongjoong’s thighs, or sneak his hands under his shirt. Well, he could, but that’s not really appropriate. 

He can’t help a squeaky sound when Hongjoong’s hand makes contact with his dick.

“Okay?” Hongjoong asks, his eyes flicking to Mingi’s face. 

“Yeah, good. Fine.”

With a hum, Hongjoong wraps his fingers around the shaft. “Oh,” he says, tone surprised. 

Fuck. Following his eyes, Mingi feels lightheaded. His fingers are too — fuck. They’re too fucking short to fit around his cock. There’s a gap of at least an inch between his thumb and other fingers, and it makes Mingi’s dick look ridiculously big. Gargantuan. Hongjoong’s hand looks miniature. 

“You’re big,” Hongjoong says, with a little huff, and Mingi’s dick blurts precome when Hongjoong looks at him. Crinkled eyes. Not a full smile, but Hongjoong looks amused and comfortable and pleased and _God,_ he’s looking at Mingi with his hand on Mingi’s cock, and it’s so much. 

Hongjoong takes his hand away to spit onto his palm — he even spits daintily — and then replaces his hand, the grip snugger than before. Tight. 

This is _not_ how Mingi had imagined Hongjoong would give a handjob, realistically. He’d expected more hesitation, nervousness, maybe shyness. Kind of like Hongjoong had seemed when he was talking about it. 

“Yeah,” Mingi says, already forgetting what Hongjoong had said. He bites off a groan when Hongjoong starts to stroke him, moving his fist like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Christ. Mingi hates that fucking Mixnine guy, of course he does, but Hongjoong touching his cock like this, self-assured and _knowledgeable_ , is everything. 

“Good?” 

“Ah, y-yeah,” Mingi chokes out. He’s trembling, sensation concentrated at the points where Hongjoong is touching him.

“It’s been a while, I’m a little out of practice.” Slightly out of breath, Hongjoong adds a second hand to wrap around his shaft. “That’s better, hm?”

 _Fuck_ , Mingi thinks, despairing. Hongjoong is crouched between his useless legs, two hands wrapped tightly around Mingi’s cock, jerking him off like he’s trying to milk the come out of Mingi’s shuddering body. 

“H-hah,” he moans, unable to stop his hips from jerking up on a particularly fast series of strokes. “H-hyung…”

The grip on his cock gets tighter. “You like that?” 

“It’s — ah, it’s so...” Mingi twitches in his hand, peering through half-closed eyes at Hongjoong’s hands moving on his cock. He can’t look, or else he’ll just. “I’m g-gonna —”

“Come?” 

Mingi shivers all over his body. God, who is this Hongjoong? He forces himself to look, and yeah, that’s Kim Hongjoong. That’s Hongjoong, his hyung, their _leader_ , leaning towards him, on his knees, jerking him off with two hands like some kind of professional. 

“Gonna — hyung,” he pants, and Hongjoong glances up at him. 

The eye contact makes Mingi scream inside, years’ worth of fantasies and heart murmurs and squishy, blurred feelings intensifying into one look, one glance. Mingi feels seen, feels scraped raw, the unexpectedness of the whole thing suddenly too overwhelming to absorb. 

Hongjoong is touching him. That’s real, and Mingi thrusts up and comes onto Hongjoong’s hands, dripping onto his belly. He closes his eyes and pants, his groin quivering as Hongjoong strokes him through the last of it. 

“Wow,” he hears, more of a breath than a word. The hand on his dick falls away, letting his shaft drop onto his abdomen. 

Eyes fluttering, Mingi swallows. He’d slumped down when Hongjoong was jacking him off, but he tries to sit up and regain some dignity, forcing his eyes open. 

He hopes that was more than two minutes. Five minutes, if he’s optimistic, but he’s not. He’s sure he just embarrassed himself all over Hongjoong’s scarily capable little hands. 

“Uh,” he says, blinking at Hongjoong, whose expression is largely unreadable, eyes dark and heavy. “Do you want a tissue?” 

Mingi luckily has tissues stashed under his bed for this exact purpose, so he pulls some out and hands them over. As Hongjoong wipes his hands clean, Mingi tries to pretend not to be checking out his crotch. He can’t really be sure, but it looks like there’s a small tent at the front of Hongjoong’s sweats. 

“So,” he says, when Hongjoong throws the crumpled tissues onto the floor. “Can I…?”

After years of watching Hongjoong’s face, his reactions to stimuli foreign and familiar, Mingi is reasonably confident in his ability to gauge Hongjoong’s thoughts. But now he’s stumped. Hongjoong looks — uncertain? He’s still sitting close to Mingi’s crotch, crouched between his spread legs, and he’s still looking at Mingi’s face. All good signs. 

Hongjoong shifts on his knees. “You want to,” he says. “What do you want to do? I mean, what do you feel comfortable doing?” 

Ha ha fucking ha. “Anything’s fine,” Mingi says.

Frowning, Hongjoong flicks his bare thigh, below the hem of the boxers. “Hands? What does that mean?” 

“I’ll really do anything you want, hyung,” Mingi tells him, raw and sincere.

For some reason, that makes Hongjoong blush. “Oh,” he says. “Well. I think just hands is okay for now. Since it’s your first time — since you haven’t, before.”

So much to unpack there, God. Mingi is going _crazy_. ‘For now,’ like there’s going to be a _later on_. And his ‘first time,’ like _Mingi_ is the innocent virginal fairy, and Hongjoong is despoiling him with his gay little hands. 

“Okay,” he says, attempting calm. “How do you want to…?”

“Maybe I could sit —” Hongjoong looks toward his groin, making eye contact with his still semi-hard dick, “ — there, and you could, like, reach around?”

Mingi wishes his refractory period didn’t exist. His mind is already WOW WOW WOW YES, just from that image, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to get erect post-haste with Hongjoong nestled against his chest. 

It’s a little embarrassing, but he can get hard again extremely fast, even after just coming. He usually jerks off before music shows — twice — knowing Hongjoong will be even more potent than usual, but sometimes it doesn’t work, and he pops a boner anyway. He’s very sensitive. 

“Yeah, totally, sounds good,” Mingi assures him, trying not to think too hard. 

Expression doubtful, Hongjoong turns and eases down in front of him, sitting so his back presses against Mingi’s torso.

It’s awful. Oh God, it’s terrible. It’s too much — Hongjoong’s sweet-smelling hair below his head, his legs blanketing Hongjoong’s legs, his feet stretching far past Hongjoong’s, and his cock lined up perfectly with the top of Hongjoong’s ass. 

“Let me just,” Hongjoong says, and then he leans forward and pulls his sweats down, pushing them down to his knees.

He nudges back closer when he’s done, pushing his ass into Mingi’s crotch firmly. The contact makes Mingi groan, too turned on to keep from thrusting his cock against Hongjoong’s bare ass. He has just enough brain juice to feel contrite, but then Hongjoong lets out a tiny answering moan, shifting against him. The sound sends white-hot sparks all through Mingi’s body. 

“S-sorry,” he manages, forcing himself to keep still. Just because Hongjoong is lying on top of him doesn’t mean he can hump him like he’s a — anyway. 

“You’re hard again,” Hongjoong says, and he sounds out of breath. 

_No, I’m just happy to see you,_ Mingi thinks, feverish. “Yeah,” he says. “Sorry.”

Hongjoong makes another huffed sound. His arm moves, and Mingi can’t see but he assumes, from the bitten-off moan that Hongjoong lets out, that he’s starting to touch himself. “You can keep — keep doing that, if you want. Feels good.”

The smell of him is driving Mingi absolutely wild. Hongjoong must have showered before coming over — his hair is dry but it smells clean, and his whole body is so warm and small and soft that Mingi feels crazy from it, how well Hongjoong fits against him. He’s also stupid with the idea that he’s making Hongjoong _feel good_. Fuck, all he wants to do is make Hongjoong say that again, repeat it, punch breathless, pleased moans out of him till he can’t even speak, overwhelmed by how _good_ Mingi is making him feel. 

Nose pressed into Hongjoong’s hair, Mingi takes the encouragement to grip Hongjoong’s hips loosely and press into him, dragging his cock along the crack of Hongjoong’s ass. 

Fuck, this is hot. He’s thought about this too, obviously, too many times to count. Hongjoong in front of him, under him, letting out little pants of pleasure as Mingi pushes against him. Again, humping would be the technical term, but that makes Mingi feel like he’s a helpless kid, rubbing his cock against the first firm surface he encounters. 

“Ah, mm,” Hongjoong breathes, his arm moving quickly. “Yeah, good. You’re so big, Mingi-yah.”

Mingi feels shivery and slightly deranged. His cock is throbbing. He’s so fucking hard, just from rubbing against the slight curve of Hongjoong’s ass, holding him in place because Hongjoong hadn’t said not to. Hongjoong hadn’t told him not to sneak his hands under the T-shirt, to hold Hongjoong’s crazy little waist, the one that’s been on such blatant display lately, so small Mingi’s hands almost reach around and meet around it. 

The angle isn’t perfect — his cock rubs more against Hongjoong’s lower back than lower down, against the ripest curve of his ass, between his cheeks, against his — God, fuck, his _hole_. It’s fine. This is more than enough. It’s everything, Hongjoong quivering in his hold, touching himself, gasps of pleasure falling out as Mingi grinds his hard cock against his ass. 

He’s pushing back for more, too. Even though the angle sucks, Hongjoong arches his back and presses his ass back, grinding into Mingi’s erection like he’s hungry for it. His legs are twitching against Mingi’s, as if he’s scrabbling against the sheets, his whole body wracked with shudders. 

He’s so _hot_ for it. It’s incredible, feeling Hongjoong lose it like this. It’s better than anything Mingi had ever imagined. 

“This still good?” Mingi asks, fishing selfishly. 

“Y-yeah,” Hongjoong says breathily. “Ah…harder, I’m gonna —”

The deranged feeling intensifies. Mingi makes a sound that he knows is embarrassingly close to a growl and hauls Hongjoong flush against him, wrapping an arm around his waist, under the arm Hongjoong is using to jack off. He holds Hongjoong tight to his chest and thrusts his cock against his ass faster, more insistently.

He wants Hongjoong to _feel_ him. Like that, he nudges his head forward to look down.

Fuck, that’s hot. Hongjoong’s dick is hard in his hand, and he’s jerking himself off so quickly, hips pushing into his hand and then back into Mingi’s hard cock. Mingi has him held so tightly that he can barely move except to fuck his fist, and he does, moaning louder. 

He’d sound so loud getting fucked. He’d —

Mingi feels raw. “Let me jerk you off,” he says suddenly, and waits for a few fraught seconds before Hongjoong lets his hand drop off his cock with a soft moan. Mingi replaces it with his own immediately, groaning internally at how _small_ Hongjoong’s cock looks in his fist. It’s average sized, but Mingi’s hands are just _big _, proportional, and he can’t even see Hongjoong’s cock when he wraps his fingers around it.__

__The slide of his fist is easy, thanks to the glossy wetness of Hongjoong’s precome. It’s the first time Mingi has jacked off another person, but the angle is good like this. It’s surprisingly easy, even with his other arm snaked around Hongjoong’s middle and his cock still rubbing circles into Hongjoong’s ass._ _

__“M-Mingi-yah, ah, ah, yeah—” The _sounds_ Hongjoong makes are just incredible, breath-taking. High-pitched, ragged little noises, like a hand on his cock is the only thing he’s ever wanted. _ _

__Fuck, Mingi is going to come. He tries to keep a measured pace on Hongjoong’s dick, because it helps to concentrate on something other than how perfect and soft and firm Hongjoong’s ass feels against his cock, shifting as he shudders in Mingi’s arms. And he wants to make Hongjoong come first._ _

__Hongjoong does, after a few more rough strokes. He arches up with a sharp gasp, almost pained, and Mingi watches the come spill out of his cockhead, coating his hand as he strokes Hongjoong through it._ _

__“Mm, ah, god,” Hongjoong pants, slumping back into his chest._ _

__Mingi is extremely erect. He tries not to wriggle too much, aware of how heavily Hongjoong is breathing as he recovers, but _fuck_. He’s so aroused he thinks he might evaporate. _ _

__“Hey,” Hongjoong says eventually. He turns his head around as far as possible, and they make weird eye contact — Hongjoong’s head resting on his shoulder as Mingi looks down at him. Hongjoong is so _pink_. “You’re still — do you want to…?”_ _

__“If you don’t mind,” Mingi says, somewhat choked. It’s taking everything not to jerk his hips against Hongjoong’s ass, and also not to close the distance between their faces and suck Hongjoong’s entire face into his mouth. Hongjoong is very potent like this. Blinking, his eyes damper than usual, and so, so close. And asking if Mingi wants to come._ _

__“Yeah, no problem. You can keep doing that, if you want,” Hongjoong says, flushing, and then turns back around._ _

__Keep rubbing his dick all over his ass? Oh-fucking-kay, that sounds splendid. Reverently, Mingi wipes his come-covered hand over his own sleeve, vowing to wash it later. Then he reaches down and grasps Hongjoong’s hips, teeth clamped into his lower lip._ _

__“Is that good, still?” Hongjoong twists under him, his ass rubbing directly over the head of Mingi’s dick. Fuck, Mingi thinks, his eyes almost rolling up in his head. “Like, the position?”_ _

__“Uh, it’s fine. Is it okay for you?”_ _

__“We could spoon,” Hongjoong says. “If that would be better.”_ _

__Motherfucking shit. Yeah, that would be — shit. “Sure,” Mingi forces out, and then he moves along with Hongjoong to settle themselves horizontally, back to chest, lined up all close like before._ _

__The absolute wonder of the whole thing is still fresh in Mingi’s mind. But it’s kind of hard to be stupid with shock when his dick is so hard it hurts, and Hongjoong is tucked in his arms and now pushing his ass back, seeking his cock._ _

__“Let me know if I should stop or go slower, or anything,” Mingi says, and then he rests a hand on Hongjoong’s hip and starts rubbing his cock against Hongjoong’s ass again._ _

__He’s able to go so much faster like this. The angle is perfect, the full curve of Hongjoong’s tiny ass pressed directly into his crotch. Mingi’s cock slides against the line of his crack, hot and velvet._ _

__Vaguely, he hears how loud he’s being. It’s embarrassing, but he’s panting like they’ve just gone offstage, half-stifled groans tumbling out as his cock drags against Hongjoong’s bare ass. Hongjoong is breathing heavily again, he’s almost sure, which makes him even more frenzied. He feels _wild_ , for the millionth time, and now he feels heat building in his groin, again. _ _

__Hongjoong is so soft and his body is trembling, his legs threaded into Mingi’s, Mingi’s chin nudged onto his shoulder._ _

__“You can,” Hongjoong pants, “you can put your, ah, your arm around me, like before.”_ _

__God. It’s a targeted assassination, Mingi thinks, hysterical. He _wants_ , of course he does, so he curls his arm under Hongjoong’s arm, under the shirt, which has blessedly ridden up again. He loops his arm around Hongjoong’s bare skin, holding them together tightly. _ _

__“Good?” Hongjoong asks._ _

__“Uhn, y-yeah, so…” Mingi groans, head dropping forward on Hongjoong’s shoulder._ _

__He can’t handle the closeness. He can’t handle any of it, Hongjoong’s ass rubbing so perfectly against his cock, wrapped together like intertwining vines, and yet he still wants _more_. It’s the wildness from before, except he just — he wants to be inside Hongjoong, of course he does, he wants to possess him in every possible way, to hold him so tightly that he can’t — _ _

__“Ah, hn, hyung,” Mingi groans. His arm tightens on Hongjoong’s chest, holding him in place so Mingi can thrust against him rapidly._ _

__“Mingi-yah,” Hongjoong moans, pressing back._ _

__Mingi shudders at the sound of his name. God, Hongjoong feels so good, smells so good. He’s perfect, Mingi thinks, and his come spills onto the small of Hongjoong’s back, probably dripping into his crack. Or so Mingi would imagine._ _

__They’re both breathing unevenly when Mingi is finally finished._ _

__He withdraws his arm with a wince, easing away from Hongjoong’s body. “You okay?”_ _

__After a pause, Hongjoong turns onto his back. Mingi is really, actually looking at Hongjoong’s face — his mussed hair and his mouth, which looks red, like he’s been biting his lips — but then he looks down and sees that Hongjoong is _hard_. _ _

__Oh, God._ _

__Hongjoong blushes when they make eye contact. “I’m — it just happened,” he says, with a slight pout._ _

__“Great dicks think alike,” Mingi says, grinning. It helps that he’s just come. It really helps that apparently Hongjoong got hard from Mingi grinding against him, getting off on him. God, they could try for another —_ _

__Someone knocks on the door. “Mingi-yah,” they call, and Hongjoong looks at him in absolute horror. Yunho._ _

__“Don’t come in!” Mingi yells. Hongjoong is struggling to get his boxers back on, smoothing his shirt down, trying to get his sweats outside-in and work them over his legs._ _

__“Are you jacking off?”_ _

__“Yes!” Mingi calls back gratefully. “What do you want?”_ _

__He can practically hear Yunho’s eye roll. “We’re going to watch a movie. I sent you a text, you can join when you’re done with your dick if you want.”_ _

__His footsteps echo in the hallway as he strolls away, and Mingi relaxes out of his abject terror. Hongjoong has somehow managed to get fully dressed, and now he’s rolling off the bed with his usual agility. He looks like he was just fucked._ _

__He wasn’t, not in the penetrative sense, but Mingi still feels a lick of pride, looking at him. Mingi did that to him._ _

__“You should clean up before you go,” Hongjoong tells him, a shadow of his usual self._ _

__“I will.” Mingi looks at him, and he’s pretty sure they’re both completely un-fucking-able to process what just occurred. Or maybe that’s projection. But Hongjoong looks about as awkward as he had when he’d seen that fucking manga, his arms hanging rigidly at his sides. He probably still has Mingi’s come drying on his skin. “Sleep well?” Mingi offers._ _

__“We should talk about this, Mingi-yah,” Hongjoong says. Before Mingi can answer, though, he smiles. “Maybe later, though. You should go watch with them, so it’s not suspicious.”_ _

__“Sure, yeah,” Mingi says, throat dry. So that means — what? “Good night?”_ _

__Hongjoong’s smile shows teeth. “Good night,” he says._ _

__And that’s that, it seems. Hongjoong slips out of the door, and once he’s gone, Mingi drops back onto his gross sheets with a gusty sigh._ _

__God. What the actual fuck. Maybe it was a dream, he thinks. Sure, his sheets smell like sex and his dick is still slightly hard, but there’s no actual _proof_ Hongjoong was here. _ _

__Hongjoong. Mingi makes a sad seal noise and rolls over onto his stomach. Even if it was a one time thing, he has a literal lifetime of supply of nut fuel now. He’s set for eternity._ _

__For appearances’ sake — even though he’d much rather lie in bed and go for orgasms three and maybe even four — he cleans himself up and changes into new clothes._ _

__He’s halfway to the TV room when his phone buzzes._ _

__It’s an image attachment. From Hongjoong. When he opens the message, he sees with a shock of panic that it’s a picture of Hongjoong’s bare side. There’s a very obvious bruise staining the skin around his hip, wide and dark purple._ _

Oh fuck. Fuck, Mingi thinks, fear and nerves wrenching at his insides. He scrabbles at the phone — he’s going to type something like, _I’m so sorry, hyung, oh my God, are you okay, do you need help —_ but then Hongjoong texts him again. 

_i want more of these_ , is the message. 

__The breath leaves Mingi’s lungs all at once. He stares at the message for at least a minute, ignoring the increasingly loud sounds of laughter and voices from downstairs._ _

_im sure we can work something out_ , Mingi sends, his fingers trembling. Is this flirting? Is Hongjoong flirting, with _him_? About sex? 

Then, unable to ignore the worry in his throat, he adds: _are you okay?? i didnt know i was that rough, im so sorry_

__

The reply comes quickly. _i liked it, mingi-yah._

___Ha_ , Mingi thinks, his heart galloping in his chest. Oh no. He’s not confident any part of his brain is going to survive this night, if any of it’s even left, at this point. _ _

_enjoy the movie_  
:) 

__

__

__Yeah, nope._ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is based around [ateez' ele interview](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iev109ifgKA) \-- it technically was filmed before the comeback, so the timeline is changed here :D

Hongjoong knows he’s staring. He absolutely knows it. 

“Nara-ssi is so pretty, huh?” San says, following his gaze to the opposite side of the room. 

The stylist is pretty. She’s also queer — Hongjoong may or may not have stalked her Instagram before this interview, and she’s pretty much the definition of “out and proud.” It makes Hongjoong very happy. She’d even complimented the color he’d chosen for his pointer finger that day, a cheery coral that contrasts nicely with his hair. 

What _doesn’t_ make him happy is how she has chosen to dress Mingi. 

He’s not even wearing tight clothing. Mingi never does, thanks to his fat fucking ass and thighs and pecs. And now, as Hongjoong knows, his fat fucking _cock_. No, Mingi has been styled in a loose tan shirt, one that makes his shoulders and chest seem even broader; gray (gray!) cutoff jeans; and white sneakers. 

The hair and makeup is awful as well. Mingi’s hair fluffs down over his forehead, honey-blonde and textured, like he’s just gone to the beach. That — combined with his usual _five-seconds-from pouting_ stare — is just terrible. 

Hongjoong wants to climb him like a tree.

“Hyung?”

“Mm?” He turns to San, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. They couldn’t have given Mingi a _jacket?_ Maybe a burlap sack? “Oh. Yeah, she’s really chic.”

“She reminds you of you, if you were an artsy Insta streetwear dude,” San says. 

Hongjoong sniffs. “I don’t seek the spotlight, San-ah,” he says. “I wear what my heart tells me.” 

But then, unfortunately, they’re all made-up and ready and being shepherded into the interview room. 

As usual, Hongjoong does most of the talking. It feels awkward, as foreign interviews always do, but at least they all look nice. And the reporter is famous, so it’ll be good publicity. That’s what the managers said anyway. 

He feels Mingi’s eyes on him whenever he speaks for too long, and that’s — fine. All good. Hongjoong thinks his appearance is fine, even if he looks like he’s going skiing at an underground beatboxing competition, with some sweet turquoise dangly earrings to boot. 

He definitely does his best _not_ to notice how far Mingi’s thighs are spread, his hands draped over his lap. He’s probably trying to let his huge monster dick breathe, Hongjoong thinks meanly. He always feels a little mean when he’s horny, even if he tries not to show it. 

Tried, meaning. Since he’s only shown his horniness to Mingi one time, so far. And that time had gone pretty fucking spectacularly, did it not? 

Hm. 

Hongjoong is already distracted by the time the interview wraps up. He feels bad that he spoke so much, but he knows the rest of them don’t love chatting away about themselves. Least of all to foreigners, out of fear of making an error and also because they don’t like bragging. Well, not in public.

When Jeff’s image disappears off the screen, there’s a collective unrigiding sound from all of them. 

“Do we get to go home now?” Wooyoung asks, sliding off his stool. 

Their manager swoops in, as if summoned. “We need to do some more photos,” he says. “Nara-ssi and Cheri-ssi are preparing the clothes now, so you can have a thirty minute break.”

Amazing. “Who wants to go get snacks?” Wooyoung asks. “I saw a GS25 downstairs.”

“I’ll come,” Seonghwa says. 

San is a given, since Wooyoung is going, and the rest of them nod their heads. Jongho wants coffee, Yunho wants food, and Yeosang wants gummy candy. Mingi is making moves like he’ll join them, but Hongjoong tugs him back with a hand on his sleeve. 

“You’re not coming?” San asks, looking between them. 

Hongjoong shakes his head, keeping Mingi’s sleeve pinched tightly in his fingers. He ignores Mingi’s confused glance. “We need to work out some lyrics stuff,” he says. 

Even if they’ve literally just had a comeback, they all know Hongjoong never stops composing. It’s not too unbelievable. Neither is his insistence that Mingi do exactly what he says, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a total lie. 

San shrugs. “‘Kay,” he says. “I’ll bring you back a snack, Mingi-yah.”

And then they’re all gone, passing through the exit with respectful nods and bows to the staff. 

“Hyung, what lyrics are we working on?” Mingi says hesitantly, looking at him with his lip puffed out. 

“Just come with me,” Hongjoong tells him. He’s not sure if this will end up how he’s hoping, but he might as well try. 

He drags Mingi through the side door, following the red signs for the restroom. He’d been in here earlier, and he’d noticed that there’s a nice one-person restroom next to the men’s room, which is probably for families. In any case, the restroom has a wide marbled sink, and it locks, and they have thirty minutes. And Hongjoong is _horny_.

Mingi looks even more confused once Hongjoong has pushed him into the bathroom and locked the door behind them. 

He always looks like such a _baby_ , like he’s asking to be snapped up in the jaws of some saber-toothed predator. So big, and for what? So he can stand there, blinking down at Hongjoong, his hands hanging down to his thighs?

“Uh. What’s going on?”

They should practice clue-reading in addition to vocals. Hongjoong sighs internally. “Do you want to hook up again?” he asks.

“Huh?” Mingi says, gaping. Hongjoong can see his throat move when he swallows, and why does that turn him on even more? “Uh — now? Here?”

“Unless you have a better place,” Hongjoong says pleasantly. 

He’d been kind of shy during the first encounter, but now he knows Mingi is attracted to him. Mingi can get off from him — with him — and that knowledge makes Hongjoong feel quite confident indeed. 

“No — I. No, this is good,” Mingi says, but then he just _stands_ there, like the birth of fucking Venus, his hands clutched awkwardly around his crotch. 

How wonderful. With a short exhale, Hongjoong pushes past him to hop onto the marble sink, settling his ass to the side of the basin. It’s pretty comfortable. 

When he feels secure, he gestures Mingi forward. “This’ll be better for making out,” he says, since Mingi is still frozen. “You’re tall. I’m short,” he explains. Nothing. He sighs. “Mingi-yah, if you’re not comfortable—”

“I’m comf — I’m good!” Blushing furiously, Mingi edges forward, coming to a stop in front of Hongjoong’s dangling legs. 

He’s not close _enough_. Huffing, Hongjoong pulls him forward by his shirt and spreads his legs to make room. With Mingi standing between his thighs, the height difference is down to a few inches, and Mingi barely has to bend his head at all. 

They don’t have much time. Hongjoong circles his arms around Mingi’s neck and tugs him close, surging up those few inches to press their lips together. 

“Mmph,” Mingi says, once their mouths make contact. 

He reorients pretty fast — his hands come up to settle around Hongjoong’s waist, like they had before, and he starts to kiss back. In fact, when Hongjoong dares to _open_ his lips, Mingi takes the opportunity to shove his tongue down Hongjoong’s throat. 

Bleurgh. “Not that,” Hongjoong says, drawing back with a frown. “Don’t be so aggressive with the tongue.”

“Oh,” Mingi says, looking crestfallen. His mouth is wet and open. “Sorry.” 

It seems that Mingi does everything hard. Hongjoong still has the echo of a hand-shaped bruise on his hip, now faded to a mottled yellow. But Mingi learns quickly, and he takes direction well. When they start kissing again, he keeps the tongue to a minimum — just enough to push along Hongjoong’s, the perfect kind of wet warmth. 

Hongjoong used to think tongues were slimy, and French-kissing kind of gross, but he likes it like this. Mingi’s big hands are holding his waist, and Hongjoong is holding his shoulders, his neck. Cupping his jaw, sometimes tangling his fingers into Mingi’s hair, not daring to pull it. For now. 

“Mbluh?” Mingi asks, when Hongjoong makes them stop for a second time. He leans forward quickly, already seeking contact again, but Hongjoong holds him away to check his phone. Okay, still got twenty minutes. 

He’s already decided that if anyone comes looking for them, he’ll pretend he was fixing Mingi’s makeup in the mirror, and that they didn’t know the door locked automatically. Ha ha. 

When he turns back, he’s unable to resist rubbing his hands from Mingi’s shoulders down to his chest. God, his pecs are huge. So round and _hard_ , his shoulders too. “Are you okay?” he asks. 

Mingi trembles under his hands. He’s kind of trembling all over, actually, like he’s being bitten by a million mosquitos at once. “I’m good,” he says, and he looks at Hongjoong’s mouth when he says it. 

_Men._ Hongjoong can’t help a thrill of satisfaction, which is mostly arousal. Mingi _wants_ him — he wants him so bad he already looks ruined by it, all fidgety and swollen-mouthed and entranced. Hongjoong chances a look downwards, and yep. There’s a cute and not-so-little bulge poking Mingi’s shirt up through his jeans. It must hurt. 

“Do you want to go back?” Mingi whispers, shifting between his thighs. 

Adorable, really. Hongjoong has already forgiven him many times over for the tongue attack. “What if I blew you?” he says, looping his arms around Mingi’s neck and smiling sweetly. 

Mingi makes a sound that is outside any language known to Hongjoong. “What?” he says, staring.

“You know what that means, right?”

“I know what it _means_.” Mingi looks pained. “Hyung, are you sure you want to, uh, do that?”

Hongjoong hums. “Well, you tell me. We’ve got almost twenty minutes.” He looks at Mingi’s crotch pointedly, and Mingi makes another desperate noise, like he wants to cover his erection with his hands. He’s still gripping Hongjoong’s waist like he doesn’t want to stop. “Do you think I could get you off in that much time?” 

“I — yes, definitely, but —”

“It’s my first time, but I won’t use teeth,” Hongjoong says, a little desperate himself. He really wants to suck Mingi’s dick. He’s wanted to ever since he saw it, and Mingi’s outfit just shot that desire up 200%. “I practice on things sometimes, so my gag reflex isn’t so bad.”

He flushes to admit that, because it makes him sound — well. He’s already told Mingi he messed around during Mixnine, and that’s embarrassing enough. And he doesn’t do it on a sex toy, just on, like, hairbrush handles. Sometimes. 

“Hyung,” Mingi chokes out, having been shocked into brief silence by that revelation. “Oh my god.” 

He’s just _staring_ , like Hongjoong is a panda in the zoo. Ugh. “If you don’t want to—”

“I want to. I really want to,” Mingi rushes out, his hands tightening around Hongjoong’s sides almost reflexively. 

Hongjoong shivers at the touch. So he likes to be reminded of his size, so what? Doesn’t mean he’s some wide-eyed innocent. “Okay,” he says, pleased. “Let me get down, then.”

Being on his knees is more fun than he’d expected. Whenever he’d watched blowjobs, it always seemed so uncomfortable for the giver — kneeling on the floor, stared at while choking on a cock, making stupid sounds. The reality isn’t so bad. He can feel the power he holds in this position, knowing Mingi’s eyes are locked on him. 

Apparently Mingi is also a gross degenerate, which means he’s probably watched someone get blown before. He’s probably thought about what a mouth would feel like on his cock. Maybe he’s even thought about what _Hongjoong’s_ mouth would feel like, after their rendezvous last week. 

When Mingi pushes his boxers down, his dick very nearly hits Hongjoong in the face. 

Hongjoong makes a face. Then he stares, because fuck, Mingi is _hard_. He’s bigger than Hongjoong remembered. Maybe that’s because of the angle, since his face is directly in front of Mingi’s massive fucking cock. 

When he wraps his fingers around the shaft, Mingi inhales sharply. Whew, that's — whew. Just like last time, Hongjoong’s belly quivers to see just how big it looks in his hand. 

“You get hard really fast,” he says, shaking the bangs out his eyes as he glances up. 

When they make eye contact, Mingi goes all rigid like he’s been shocked. 

_I look that good, huh?_ Feeling sadistic, Hongjoong jerks him off slowly, aware of the lack of moisture. Mingi’s cock feels so hot and _heavy_ in his grip. It smells clean and slightly musky, and Hongjoong wants it in his mouth so badly he has to swallow down saliva. 

“I, uh — _ah,_ ” Mingi cuts off with a gasp when Hongjoong takes the head into his mouth. “Oh god. I g-get — I’m sensit — shit, fuck…”

Hongjoong bobs his head carefully, taking just the head into his mouth. His lips feel really stretched. Not surprising, since Mingi is much bigger than anything he’s practiced on. And he’s already turned on from the kissing, but feeling a real cock in his mouth — filling him up, weighted and pulsing on his tongue, slightly salty — is making his own erection throb. 

He pulls back before he can really start a rhythm. “Don’t push my head down,” he warns, already missing the fullness inside his mouth. 

Mingi makes a bewildered sound. “I wouldn’t?”

“Good,” Hongjoong says, before diving back onto his cock.

“Hngh — god...” 

As Hongjoong sucks him in, really _sucks_ , careful of his teeth — Mingi makes choked sounds, like a fish out of water. His cock is rock-hard in Hongjoong’s mouth, but he’s not thrusting at all. Very good. Placing his hands on Mingi’s thighs, Hongjoong tries to take him in further, but he gags at the halfway point and has to pull off, coughing. It’s just too big. 

“Y-you can slow down, if you want,” Mingi tells him, his hips juddering slightly. “Hyung, you don’t have to go so — so deep.”

Hongjoong spares him a frown. “I want to,” he says, and then he wraps a hand around the base of Mingi’s shaft and guides his cock back inside. 

“Fuck, hyung,” Mingi breathes. 

Hongjoong can _feel_ him losing control. He can feel Mingi’s groin shivering, like he’s using everything he’s got to keep still and not fuck Hongjoong’s face. That’s nice. Hongjoong would also like to not have his face fucked — for now, at least. He’s not against the idea, because he does trust Mingi. He doesn’t mind the idea of getting messy, either, or doing it rough and dirty. But he can’t really get wrecked right now. 

“Ghnm,” he mumbles in agreement, trying to keep a steady pace of head bobbing. 

He tries, experimentally, to jerk Mingi off with his hand while sucking on the head. Mingi makes a pained noise, like a low groan. “Hyung, I’m close, I’m — fuck…”

 _But I’ve barely even gotten to try deepthroating,_ Hongjoong thinks sadly. They’re pressed for time, but he feeds Mingi’s cock deeper into his throat just to try it, quickly. With his throat convulsing, he forces himself to stay there, his mouth nearly reaching the fist he has gripping the base.

“Hyung, hyung,” Mingi pants, sounding desperate, and Hongjoong chokes even more when he feels come spill down his throat, Mingi’s hips jerking his cock deeper as he finishes. By accident, Hongjoong assumes, trying to swallow it all down. 

When he pulls off, he’s unsure if he feels irritated or turned on. Maybe both, he thinks, and he swallows again, licking at his lips to catch the drops that dribbled out. His lips feel puffy.

“Are you okay?” Mingi stares down at him, his cock red and still hanging in front of Hongjoong’s face. “I tried to stop — I didn’t — couldn’t, you know, control it. Sorry?”

He looks very sheepish and apologetic. Hongjoong wipes his hand across his mouth, smearing off whatever is left of lip-tint they’d put on him. Well, he’ll have to pretend he washed his face or something. “It’s fine, Mingi-yah,” he says. 

In fact, it feels pretty damn nice that he’d made Mingi come. He’d made Mingi come _fast_ , even though it was his first time blowing someone. The speed might be due more to Mingi’s inexperience than Hongjoong’s own talents, however. “What time is it?” he asks, because none of that is important. 

“Uh—” Biting his lip, Mingi pulls his phone out of his back pocket. “We’ve got ten minutes.”

Hongjoong nods. Grimacing at the stiffness in his knees, he works himself up into a standing position, then looks down to check the damage. He thinks he looks pretty much unfucked. Except for the bulge in his camo joggers, which is luckily disguised by his average dick size and the chaotic pattern of the pants. 

He should check his face — that’s what’s probably messed up beyond repair — but when he moves toward the mirror, Mingi places a tentative hand on his arm. “Hey, do you want me to…?”

They both look at his crotch. “We don’t have a lot of time,” Hongjoong says, even though he would really like to get off. He’s quite erect, more so than he’d expected from just having a cock in his mouth. He definitely wouldn’t mind repeating the experience at a later date. 

“It’s up to you,” Mingi says, and now he’s blushing again, having wiped up his spent dick and tucked it into his jeans. Hongjoong already misses her, deeply. “I’d like to — I could try blowing you, too. If you wanted.”

 _Come again?_ Hongjoong glances at him in surprise. He really hadn’t expected Mingi to want to do more than handjobs — on his end, at least. But he wants to get on his knees? 

“If you want to try it,” Hongjoong says slowly. “But I’m finishing myself off if I don’t come in five minutes,” he adds, and then he watches Mingi sink to his knees in front of his crotch.

If kneeling had felt powerful, it’s also quite invigorating to be the one standing over Mingi like this. Discovering all sorts of things today, apparently. 

Mingi tugs at the drawstrings of his joggers with long fingers, drawing his boxers over his hips to get at his cock. Hongjoong is maybe half the size of Mingi’s ridiculous horse cock, so, like last time, Mingi’s fist covers almost the entirety of the shaft when he closes his hand around him. 

“Hm,” Hongjoong mumbles, bucking into the loose grip. Yeah, this is nice — Mingi blinking his blonde hair out of his brown eyes, peering up at him, his hand wrapped around Hongjoong’s cock. “Do whatever you feel comfortable with,” he tells Mingi, trying to keep his voice steady. 

With a jerky nod, Mingi holds the base with two fingers and takes the head into his mouth. His tongue circles the underside, and then he _sucks_.

“Oh,” Hongjoong gasps, and now he understands just how tempting it is to thrust. To chase that sensation all over his cock, to slide deeper into that warm wet heat. 

Mingi takes a good chunk of Hongjoong’s dick into his mouth, gagging only slightly, and starts to move his head hesitantly, like he’s afraid to go too fast. Regardless, Hongjoong is having a _blast_. With every slow glide of Mingi’s mouth, his lips dragging so beautifully on the shaft, Hongjoong feels his groin tensing and heating. So fucking good, even if he’s just standing there and letting Mingi suck on his cock at his own pace. 

He would _definitely_ not mind repeating this experience. 

After a while, Mingi pulls off with a smacking sound that makes Hongjoong’s hips jerk. God, Mingi’s lips are so wet — even thicker than usual, gleaming with spit. 

Mingi coughs before he speaks. “Can I — is there something I can do, to get you to…?”

Oh, yeah. He needs to come. And soon. 

“How about I jerk off,” Hongjoong says, “and when I’m close, I can — but you probably don’t want to, like, swallow,” he finishes awkwardly. He was going to suggest — but that’s fine. He can just get himself off into the toilet, or his hand, or whatever. 

But Mingi flushes, looking up at him. He’s only choked a couple of times on Hongjoong’s cock, but his mouth really looks _ruined_. Hongjoong wants to smear the head of his cock across Mingi’s lips, to drag over the saliva that’s making his mouth shimmer. He wants to stick his cockhead in Mingi’s cheek and poke it out, and fucking _okay,_ — he would really like to come, very fucking soon. 

“I want to swallow,” Mingi says softly. “I want to try it. How about — you can put it in my mouth when you’re close? Is that what you were going to say?”

“Yeah,” Hongjoong chokes out. “Well, if you’re okay with it…”

Wrapping his hand around his cock, he starts to stroke himself. He’s really close already. He isn’t sure whether it’s weird to look at Mingi when he’s jacking off in front of his face, but he does anyway. Mingi is looking between his cock and his face, anyway. 

Hongjoong feels his breath turn uneven, harsh and heavy, as he looks at Mingi on his knees. 

He’s thought about fooling around with Mingi, even before he’d discovered Mingi likes yaoi. He’s thought about Mingi’s thighs and chest and shoulders, and how he looks when he’s gazing down at Hongjoong. So tall and _solid._ More recently, he’s thought about Mingi’s huge cock pushing into his ass, the both of them wrapped close like last time. 

It would feel so — ah, so _full,_ he thinks, biting his lip. Mingi driving into him, hands on his waist — 

“I’m—” he forces out, and Mingi just opens right up. He takes Hongjoong’s cock into his mouth and sucks _hard,_ and Hongjoong comes in his mouth with a hoarse groan, his stomach tensing. 

He places a hand on Mingi’s head as he finishes — not pushing or anything, just to keep his balance. Maybe to pet Mingi’s hair a little, too. 

It takes a good while for him to steady himself, but eventually he draws in a deep breath and pulls out. “What time is it,” he asks, panting a little. God, he feels so _good_ — he’s so warm all over, still tingling to remember coming inside Mingi’s velvet mouth. 

Looking a tad shell-shocked, Mingi takes a couple seconds to check his phone. “Three minutes,” he says, and when he stands, he wobbles on the way up. Concerning. 

“You alright?” Hongjoong grabs a few sheets of toilet paper. They’ll have to clean up quickly, but they can make it. 

“I’m — I’m good.”

That sounds fake. Frowning, Hongjoong walks closer to stand in front of him. “Are you?” he asks, and then he reaches a hand up and turns Mingi’s chin towards him. 

Mingi looks shiny-mouthed, and his hair is a little tousled. He looks fine, Hongjoong thinks, relieved. 

“I’m fine, hyung.” Mingi squirms in his grip, but he’s making eye contact. 

That’s something. Hongjoong releases him, and then, operating out of pure instinct, tugs him down again and kisses him, uncaring of the come-tastes in their respective mouths. 

Mingi makes another surprised sound into his mouth. Then his hands find Hongjoong’s waist, and they’re kissing again, sweet and slow, their heads nudging together and tilting in sync. 

But they can’t just _kiss_ forever. Hongjoong pulls back, trying to keep a handle on his breathing. 

He just wants to — “You’re good at that,” he says, his cheeks heating. “Thanks. For doing this.”

Mingi’s hands stroke his sides, over the strange windbreaker they’ve made him wear. He’s blushing, too. “You’re better, hyung,” he says, and then he grins, looking down at Hongjoong with a strange, unfamiliar warmth in his eyes. Like intimacy, like closeness, which isn’t anything they’ve ever really shared. 

God. It’s so awkward, but maybe that’s why Hongjoong finds himself smiling the same weird, soft smile. 

_Thank you_ , he thinks, but that’s enough sappiness for the time being. He steps back and wipes his mouth, and Mingi does the same. “Do I look okay?” he asks. 

“Yep. Me?”

Hongjoong gives him a quick once over. “Yeah, good,” he says. 

With a nod, Mingi smooths his hands over his jeans. “Okay, let’s go?”

When they return to the set, the rest of them are still gone. “Thank goodness some of you are on time,” their manager grumbles, looking at his watch. 

“Maybe they’re bringing you back a coffee, hyung,” Mingi says, settling onto the couch. The stylists are puttering around in the corner, flicking through clothes on the rolling stand. 

“If they do, I’ll give you two thousand won. How did your work go?”

It’s pointless and unnecessary, but he and Mingi exchange a look before he answers. “It was great. We might have our own subunit for the next comeback,” Hongjoong says brightly. 

Again, a total fabrication, but the way Mingi goggles at him makes it all very much worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> this fic supported the [navajo water project!](https://www.navajowaterproject.org) thanks magicsoul!


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